


Love in Purple

by orphan_account



Category: Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Conditioning, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fucking Machines, Gaslighting, Hurt Tony Stark, Kidnapping, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Past Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Stockholm Syndrome, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27313672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: My halloween gift (curse).Tony thought he was past this. He thought he'd gotten over this. Years of therapy, of building up his self-esteem, his strength. Steve, wonderful Steve, who loved him unconditionally, who treated him right, so right.But all it takes is a few words from Killgrave to remind Tony exactly who he belongs to.This is the tainted child of my depression. Don't read it. Or please do. Whichever.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Tony Stark/Zebediah Killgrave, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Zebediah Killgrave/Peter Parker, Zebediah Killgrave/Tony Stark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 58





	1. Belong Together (Tony's POV)

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so now this is happening I guess.
> 
> I plan on going fairly dark for this. Not the darkest of dark, but dark. Non-con, manipulation, and we'll see where it goes.
> 
> I don't know where this came from.

“Zeb, Zeb I’m sorry.” Tony keens. On his knees, begging, eyes wet. Exactly where he belongs.

Zebediah strokes his face with a tenderness too genuine. “My sweet Tony.” He says, thumb stroking Tony’s jaw. “I’m not mad anymore. I’m not mad, I promise. I forgive you, Tony.” 

It’s all wrong. He says he forgives, but he doesn’t. Or if he does, he never forgets.

Still, hope sparkles in Tony’s eyes. Zebediah sees it. He plucks it from those gorgeous brown disks, rolls it between thumb and finger, and crushes it in a tattooed fist. “I forgive you, Tony.” He says, pointedly this time. “I’ll forgive you every time. I’ll teach you as many times as I need to, until you _learn_.”

“No, no no.” Tony sobs. Zeb’s hands are cold. So cold, they leave frostbite in their wake, petting Tony’s face and hair, nails scraping his scalp. It feels nice from a purely sensory perspective. Tony tries to pretend, makes himself imagine that it’s Steve, Steve touching him instead of this man.

But Steve runs warm.

“Yes, Tony. You need to learn.” Tony remains silent, and the tender touch turns vicious. “You pay attention when I talk to you, Tony. You look at me, do you understand?”

Tony can’t tell, he can’t tell if the words were spoken with soft, poisonous promise, or with loud rage and threat. It doesn’t matter. The fear in his chest is alive. Alive and writhing and burning. Everywhere Zebediah freezes with his touch, the fear burns and scorched from within.

“I understand.” Tony croaks. The concrete is digging into his knees. Zebediah smiles.

Zebediah smiles, smiles that fond smiles, lips pale and blue. He leans down and presses his cold lips to Tony’s chapped pink ones, licks over the dry skin. “Who do you belong with, Tony?” He asks. It isn’t a question. It’s an order.

“I belong to you.” Tony sobs. Zebediah sneers at that and slaps Tony, a quick fronthand. Not meant to be painful so much as humiliating. A reminder and a warning.

“I know who you belong to, mutt. You’ve always belonged to me. Always have and always will. Listen when I talk. I want you to tell me who you belong with. Tell me. Now.”

Steve. He belongs with Steve. Steve will hold him and stroke him and erase every ounce of pain with his tender touch. He’ll wrap Tony up in sculpted arms and whisper praise in his ear; gentle musings, he’ll thank Tony, thank him for existing, for having the kindness to allow Steve to touch him.

Tony wants to laugh whenever Steve does it. He doesn’t deserve Steve. Steve is pure. Steve is love incarnate.

“You!” Tony cries out when the heel of Zebediah’s shoe digs into his crotch. It only earns him another sneer.

“I don’t know who this ‘You’ fellow is, but it isn’t me.” Zeb growls. It’s cruel, semantic. A display of power. No answer would have been good enough. Zebediah always wants more.

“Zebediah!” Tony cries out. His tears are lead heavy, and they press cruelly into the bruises along his jaw. “Zebediah Killgrave. I belong with Zebediah Killgrave!”

The touch is gentle again. It almost feels warm. Warm ice. How curious.

“You sound so beautiful when you say my name, pup.” Zebediah smiles and kisses Tony again. He brushes away tears and licks them off his thumb. “Tell me more. Why do you belong with Zebediah, baby? Why do you belong with me? What makes you say that?”

The sick fuck. He’s so- he’s always so fucking…

Shit.

“Because I love him.” Tony says numbly. “I love Zebediah Killgrave. I love you Zeb, and we belong together.”

Zebediah’s smile bursts brightly at the declaration, and for a handful of moments, Tony’s heart melts at the look. He made Zeb happy. Zeb is smiling because of him.

No no no! It’s all wrong. He doesn’t give a shit if Zeb is happy. He hates Zeb. Zebediah is nobody. Nothing! Tony wants nothing to do with him!

“I love you too, Tony.” Zebediah says softly. Tony hadn’t realized he’d been pulled into an embrace. Zeb’s hands are cold, but his body is warm through his gaudy suit. Tony’s bare form leans into it, craves it, and suddenly he’s drowning, smothered in cheap cologne. “Oh, Tony, I love you so much. More than anything. You’re so, so good to me, Tony.”

Tony whines and buries his face in the crook of Zebediah’s neck. Hands roam over his back. The skin freezes. The muscle burns.

“I’ll treat you so good, Tony. I’ll give you everything you deserve, I promise.” Everything he deserves. Right. But what does Tony deserve? Not good things. Never good things. Not Steve. Not the comforts of his philanthropic lifestyle. This. He deserves this. Zebediah doesn’t lie to him. “I love you so goddamn much, Tony.” Zebediah’s voice sounds shaky, almost.

He pulls back and looks Tony in the eye. His eyes are purple, weird. He’s only ever seen Zebediah to have purple eyes, and he has no clue why. It’s what drew him to the man that very first time, at that party in college. Leaning against the wall, red solo cup in hand. He watched as Tony ground up against some nameless sorority girl. Tony started watching him back. Then Tony walked over, used smooth, practiced words to lure the entrancing man in.

He should’ve gone home with the girl.

“Say it again, Tony. My sweet pup, my love, my light. Say it again.” Killgrave digs his fingernails hard into Tony’s back when the other man hesitates.

“I love you.” Tony mumbles the words into Zebediah’s neck. “Zeb, you’re for me. We belong together. I love you. I. Love. Zebediah Killgrave.”

“Gorgeous.” Zebediah pulls back and cups Tony’s face again. He looks reverent. “Oh, my love.” He stands and brings Tony to his feet. Tony’s chest is covered in scratches and bruises, a red rim surrounds his arc reactor where Zebediah abused the skin earlier. His neck covered in bites.

“Let’s go home, honey, yeah?” Zeb unties Tony’s hands, squeezes the bruised wrists before he releases them. “I’m taking you home, alright?”

It’s not a question, no matter how much it sounds like one. It’s not a question. It’s an order. Tony is going home with Zebediah. Nothing in the world can change that fact. Yellowstone could erupt, the moon could crash into the earth. It wouldn’t matter. Tony would still be going home with Zebediah Killgrave.

The last defiance Tony can manage, all that his mind could possibly allow, is silence. He could go, but he could hate it. He could let Zebediah puppet him without leaning into it, without excepting it.

But Tony is weak. And he doesn’t belong to himself. The choice isn’t his.

“Let’s go home.” Tony parrots.

Zebediah beams at him, and Tony hates how his heart melts again. Something else inside him, he doesn’t want to name it, but it emerges. It pushes aside the hate. It pervades his mind and licks at his wounds to make them sting. Beautifully sting. He made Zeb happy, and that’s a good thing. The nameless says to him. You made him happy. You want to make him happy. That’s good.

Zeb sheds his jacket and helps Tony into it, tugging the sleeves over his sore arms. He sighs at Tony’s helplessness, as if to ask ‘where would you be without me, Tony?’

With Steve! A part of Tony shouts violently from within.

Nowhere. The nameless thing shoves the defiance down. You’d be nowhere, Tony. You need Zebediah. And he needs you. Doesn’t that feel nice? Doesn’t it feel so good to be needed?

Zebediah is still beaming, his eyes are pretty and lively, like violets in the spring. He laces his fingers with Tony and tugs lightly. Tony concedes, lets himself be guided before Zebediah gets upset.

“I missed you so much, Tony.” Zebediah sighs, shoving him into the passenger seat of his purple mustang. Tony always hated this car. “But now we’re together again, and I’m so happy. I’m so happy, Tony. Aren’t you?”

Tony looks at where Zebediah is fastening his seatbelt and takes a shuddering breath, cocooning himself in the jacket and the awful smell it’s covered in.

“Aren’t you happy, Tony?"

He whispers his answer. He doesn’t like lying to Zebediah. It never works, and Zeb gets mad. He knows and he gets mad. So instead he says “I love you, Zeb.”

Zebediah seems sated by the answer. He squeezes Tony’s hand and laces their fingers together once more as he tears down the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was kind of weak. Just a prologue, though, and there is much darkness to come. Stay tuned, I'll post chapter 2 in the next few days.


	2. You're Perfect (Zebediah & Tony's POVs)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all coming to me much quicker than I thought it would. Alright, let's get started.
> 
> Zebediah ruminates on his past and thinks a bit about the future. His future with Tony. Tony musters his strength and fights back.

**Zebediah POV**

Tony doesn’t know what’s best for him. He doesn’t. He thinks being safe is good. Being cared for with tenderness. Gentleness. It’s bullshit. Pure and utter bullshit.

“Zeb, get the fuck away from me! What the shit? Get away! I have a boyfriend now, you shit! Fuck off! Stop!”

His Tony’s skin is disgustingly clear. Unmarked. Tony says he has a boyfriend. More bullshit. If this ’Steve’ nobody really cares about Tony, why hasn’t he staked his claim? Where are his marks? Where has be branded what’s his? This Steve guy was a distraction. Someone, something to play with while Zeb was away.

But Zebediah is back now. Steve isn’t needed anymore, and he obviously doesn’t know what Tony needs. What Tony deserves. Only Zebediah does. Only Zebediah can own Tony.

The first thing he did, right after he got Tony shirtless and his hands tied behind his back, was remind him. Getting him to the warehouse wasn’t a problem. Tony practically went into shock the moment he saw Zebediah in the bar, and the chloroform did the rest.

What was Tony doing at a dive bar anyhow?

He slapped Tony awake. Straddled his chest and smacked him around a bit. Gripped his jaw far too hard to turn his head this way and that, leaving bruises in his wake.

He’ll enjoy those bruises later. He wants to bruise Tony more. Bruise him always. He likes the Bruises best when they’re purple.

He’ll teach Tony. He’ll remind his Tony exactly who he belongs to. He’ll cover him with marks, make him purple. He’ll remind Tony to shiver at the sound of his voice, to lean into his every touch even as he cries out in pain. One day soon, Tony won’t even flinch when he’s struck. He’ll take it. He’ll kneel, and he’ll thank Zebediah for it, he’ll worship his master, and his master will reward him. His master will love him, the way he always has.

A few slaps, a few honied words, a handful of threats, and Tony was good as new; submissive, needy, and honest. He told Zebediah he loved him. Zeb always knew, he never doubted, but it always made him ache in the best way to hear it. Hear the words on Tony’s lips. It sounds like victory every time.

It’s been upwards of fifteen years since he’s heard those words. Fifteen long years behind bars, for ‘kidnapping’ and ’sexual assault’. He knows Tony was bullied by his parents to testify against him. Bullied by that little bitch, Rhodey. Tony was perfect and all his until they started nosing about where they didn’t belong. Kidnapping and sexual assault. As if.

Why would he kidnap his soulmate? Tony went with him willingly. He just needed some convincing before he came to that decision on his own.

Is it even possible to rape your soulmate? Hell no! It’s called making love.

He’s only ever loved Tony. From the very first time he bruised the pale skin on that perfect body, he’s been horribly, deeply in love. The kind of love that poisons you and eats you alive, but sends all the pain and fear running for the hills at the same time. The kind of love that he knows will outlast them both. Their love will be alive long after they’re both gone. Hopefully it won’t come to that.

Zebediah has always been good at making people do what he wants. It’s his gift. Others think it’s a curse, but Zeb knows better. He knows better than anyone else. He knows best. He’s never been wrong.

He’s always had a sadistic streak, sure. And he does whatever he needs to in order to get what he wants. That’s not wrong, it’s not evil. It’s called survival of the fittest. Besides, it’s not as if he ever makes anyone do anything. He only convinces them to do what they want to. He pulls on those little desires, buried deep, and he makes them a reality.

Like his dad. When his mother threatened to cut him off, he had a nice long talk with his father. He’d always favored his dad anyway. It took a while, but he made his dad realize that he’d never actually liked Zebediah’s mother. She’d always been a pain, it was a marriage of convenience more than anything else. God, she was annoying. Always nagging, complaining, demanding. Not even good in bed anymore, refused to put out most of the time.

Zebediah made his father realize just how angry he was, how angry he was at his wife. So angry, so enraged, until he couldn’t remember why. All he could do was listen to the anger, guiding his every action.

Anger. Zebediah. Their voices are awfully similar.

The man was horrified after. How could he not be? He murdered his wife in cold blood. Zebediah comforted him afterward.

“It’ll be okay, dad. It’ll be fine, I promise.” Of course it wouldn’t, though, and they both knew it. So when his father asked him what to do, how to fix it, Zebediah offered a simple solution.

His tears at their funerals weren’t fake, just exaggerated. He was truly sad to see them go. Especially his dad. They were good people, aside from his mother’s blatant homophobia, but they were in the way.

Zebediah found he detested funerals, though, so he tried to avoid that route whenever possible. Manipulation comes in many forms. It isn’t as though causing pain is his favorite thing to do. It’s just a nice way to relax. He never makes anyone do anything they don’t already want to do. Not ever.

Tony was starting to wake up. That’s good. They can start again now. Tony’s parents are out of the way, and without them to back him up, Rhodey will be easy to dispose of. Zebediah saw the defeat in Tony’s eyes when they met again last night. He saw the flash of relief, too, just like he expected. How could Tony be anything but relieved? Zebediah was here to take care of him again. Here to give him what he needs. That’s all Zebediah wants.

Tony wakes, bound in his bed, and begins to thrash when he sees purple eyes and a body ridden with ink. He cries out through his gag. It sounds like he’s saying ’Steve’.

Zebediah snarls. Tony is gorgeous when he wakes, Tony is always gorgeous, but to hear another man’s name on Tony’s lips… the betrayal runs deep, runs long. Zebediah won’t stand for it. Tony must be rethinking the events of last night. This ’Steve’ has poisoned his mind, filled his sweet Tony’s head with lies. Made him think he should be gentled. Makes him think he can be independent.

But Zebediah will set him straight. Show him, teach him, treat him with the brutality and the honesty he deserves.

He has his work cut out for him, and he’s going to enjoy every single second. He’s with Tony now. He’s with Tony, and he can finally smile.

He can’t wait to make Tony purple all over. Just like how it used to be. He can’t wait to spoil his Tony.

Sometimes he fancies himself an artist, and Tony is his canvas. His masterpiece.

=================================================

**Tony POV**

Tony knew where he was before he woke. He dreamt about it.

In his dream, he was home. Not in the tower. Hell, he didn’t know the location at all. It was of no consequence. He was with Steve, in his dream. That was home. Steve was home.

Steve pulled him close, pulled Tony in so so close. He smelled like home.

“Don’t listen to him, Tony.” The dream Steve said. It may as well have been Steve from the waking world. The same words, the same promises, spoken with a conviction Tony couldn’t fathom. “He can’t control you, not anymore. You are your own man, Tony. You are in control.” He pulls back to look Tony in the eye. “You are in control. You’re strong, you’re brave, you’re beautiful. This isn’t your fault, Tony. Do you understand? Say it. Hey, look at me, Tony. Say it for me. Say it for yourself. This isn’t your fault.”

Tony shakes his head. This is his fault. He knew Zebediah was out of prison. He knew Zebediah would be coming for him. He should’ve run the moment he saw Zeb in that seedy bar.

But he couldn’t. He’d just run off from a fight with Steve, something stupid about skipping a charity event. That was Tony’s fault, too, but he was feeling obstinate last night. He made Steve mad. He upset perfect Steve, and for that he deserved to be punished. Of course this was his fault.

But he couldn’t disappoint Steve, could he? He needs to make Steve proud.

“This isn’t my fault.” Tony lies, the words cough out painfully.

Steve makes him say it again and again, until he believes Tony. But Tony just keeps on lying. Steve is too trusting. He thinks there’s good in Tony, that Tony can be good and honest and pure like him. Tony laughs at the thought. Steve smiles, because he thinks Tony is laughing out of strength, confidence. So Tony laughs again.

“I’m waiting for you, Tony.” Steve promises, kisses Tony’s temple, cradles his frail body, the one he promises is filled with strength. “The moment I see you again, we’ll be together, and I’ll never let anyone hurt you, alright? You can do this. You can do this, Tony. You can fight him, you can beat him. He can’t control you anymore. You are Tony Stark. The man made of iron. Zebediah Killgrave is no one compared to you. He’s nothing. You’re better than him.”

“I’m better than him.” Tony parrots, lies. “I can beat him.” Lies, lies, lies.

“Good, that’s good, Tony.” Dream Steve smiles. He’s so warm. Then his face turns serious. Solemn, no less friendly, no less loving, but not quite as warm. “You do what you have to do, Tony. You lie, you play along if you have to, just long enough to get out. To see me again. The moment you lay eyes on me, I’ll send that son of a bitch running. Do whatever it takes to get back to me, okay?”

“Whatever it takes.” Tony nods numbly. What is he even agreeing to?

Steve’s face loses its warmth, and he’s made of stone, gripping Tony firmly, careful to not flaw his perfect skin with bruises. “One more thing, Tony.”

Oh God. This is ending soon. Steve is about to leave him, leave him with the man. The man who makes him purple.

“Listen to me, Tony.” Steve sounds so serious, so commanding. Almost like… “This is the most important thing of all. You do whatever you have to. It’s not your fault, alright? But, listen to me, do not tell him about Peter. Don’t tell that monster about our son, do you understand? He’ll take that knowledge and he’ll use it against you. He’ll use it to get to Peter. Don’t tell him about Peter. Okay? Promise me, Tony.”

“I won’t tell him about Peter.” Tony shakes out. He hopes it’s true, God he hopes he isn’t lying. “I’ll never let him get to Peter.”

He can do it. He can’t resist Zebediah, he isn’t strong enough, but he can protect Peter. He can keep Peter from Zebediah. That much, he can do. For Peter.

“You’re perfect, Tony.” Steve smiles, warms Tony’s entire body with love and life and soothing touch. “You’ve got this. You can do this. I know it. You’re perfect. Now go get that bastard.”

Tony feels strong. He’s filled with conviction as the dream fades and he wakes. He knows where he is. He’s with Zebediah. He can do this. He can fight. He can beat this man.

He starts to flail, flail against the bonds he knows are there. He’s in a bed. He’s comfortable, physically, aside from the ropes that are digging into his already bruised wrists. He sees Zebediah as his vision settles. Even as everything else is blurry, those purple eyes are clear. Full.

Terror.

He struggles, and Zebediah smiles.

“Oh, Tony.” The other man says fondly. “You’re perfect.”

Tony freezes at that. That’s exactly what Steve said. Says. In his dream, and every morning when they wake up in each other’s arms. And every night after they make love. Steve whispers it in his sleep.

Now the words feel like poison.

“Let me go.” Tony snaps sternly. It’s day, light streams through the windows. How long has he been out?

“Why would I do that?” Zebediah frowns. “What? Tony, why would you want to leave? Don’t be silly. We’re together again. Isn’t that amazing? I missed you so much.” He leans in close and goops Tony’s nose.

“You kidnapped me.” Tony whines. He shakes his head. Strong. He needs to be strong. “You kidnapped me, again!”

Zebediah tuts, tsks. “Tony, you’re being irrational. You came here with me, Tony. You held my hand while I drove you here. I never kidnapped you. Not before, and not now. You always came willingly. Because you’re mine.”

That’s right. He is Zebediah’s. Zebediah never kidnapped him. He always went along, even if he was being pulled or carried, he never fought, never struggled.

“It’s not consensual just because you didn’t physically fight back.” His therapist told him. She was getting paid a lot of money to lie to him. “He manipulated you, Tony. Made you think things that weren’t true about yourself and about him.”

It was a lie. If Tony didn’t want it, he would’ve fought back. But even if she wasn’t lying, doesn’t that just prove how weak Tony is? How undeserving he is? How much he needs Zebediah here to take care of him?

Be strong. Steve says.

“No, you’re a liar. This isn’t where I want to be. I don’t need you Zeb, I never did. I have people who love me, people who actually care. Now let me go. Let me out of here, now!”

Zebediah’s face flashes anger. Red and hot. His shadow creeps up the wall and darkens the room, looms over Tony, and the engineer recoils. He bites back sorries, barely. He has nothing to be sorry for. Right?

“What did you say to me?” Zebediah asks. “What the fuck did you just say?” He gets up in Tony’s face, straddles his naked chest, takes the man’s chin in his hand and squeezes until Tony yelps. “You little twit. Did you just say that I don’t love you, Tony? Is that what you were implying? HOW DARE YOU!” He releases Tony’s face and slaps him, hard. Tony knows it’ll leave a red, hand-shaped stain.

“Nobody loves you like I do, Tony! Nobody knows how! I’m the only one that truly loves you, and don’t you forget it!” Each sentence is followed by a slap. The sorries are flowing freely now, along with tears, which Zebediah leans down to lick off his face, the creep.

“Say it, bitch.” When Tony shuts his eyes and murmurs more sorries, a hand fists in his hair and yanks. “I said say it! Tell me that you know.”

No. This isn’t right. Tony is strong. He doesn’t have to-

“Nobody loves me like you do.” Tony sobs. Well… it isn’t exactly a lie now, is it? Steve loves him. Steve has never loved him like Zebediah.

“That’s right, honey.” Zeb smooths his hands over the new marks he made. “But now, now you have to show me that you know. Prove it to me. Suck me.”

“No. No.” Tony whimpers, shakes his head. He can’t. Can’t.

“Yes, baby.” Zebediah undoes his fly, nodding, as if to reprimand Tony’s foolishness. Tony is so weak. So pathetic. “There’s no need to be like that, Tony. I love you. I’m doing this to show you how much I love you. You have to understand that. God, I missed you so much. So here’s how this is going to go.”

He untucks his cock from his black jeans. The length tumbles from the zipper. The first time Tony laid eyes on that long thickness, he was excited. Zebediah had looked like a challenge, and Tony never backed down from a challenge. He wanted to make Zebediah moan.

Now…

“You’re going to suck this dick, because that’s what your pretty mouth was made for. It was made for my cock. Nothing else.” Zebediah smirks. Tony opens his mouth reflexively, and the tears follow the curve of his lips, they wet Zebediah’s cock with salt as he pushes into the soft, warm passage of Tony’s mouth.

Zebediah is right. That’s what his mouth is. A holster for his cock. Why… how did Tony ever think otherwise? It was stupid to think he was anything more.

“Hmm, that’s good, Tony. Yeah, suck me off, I love you so much.” He plunges in, and by reflex once more, Tony suppresses the need to gag. The stretch of it burns his throat, the cock lodged in deep. “Remind me to thank your plaything later, when I meet him. He kept you busy for me, made sure you practiced so you’d be ready to take my cock again. That was so considerate of him, really.”

Steve. He’s talking about Steve.

Defiance rouses in him. But before he can bite, his body is frozen by that threatening tone. That isn’t quite right, though. Zebediah doesn’t make threats. Only promises.

“I know I don’t have to remind my boy what happens when he uses teeth without permission.” Zebediah hums. “But just in case he forgot, I have all the toys we used to play with together.”

No, no, God no, Tony can’t take that. Not again.

A college memory flashes in his mind, one during his captivity with Zebediah. The other man had plunged in, too deep and too fast, and Tony bit by accident, his throat spasming.

He spent the three hours after strapped down, ball gagged as a machine roughly fucked his ass with a spiked dildo. Every time Tony thought Zebediah was moving to turn it off, to take mercy, he slowed it, then dialed it up faster than before. He caught Tony’s tears on his fingers and drank them. He laughed when Tony begged through the gag, flogged him at his leisure.

“Do you need a reminder, mutt?” Zebediah thrusts in again. He’s fucking Tony’s throat, and Tony hates it. Steve is always so gentle, eases his cock down Tony’s throat with patience and shuddering moans, encouraging the whole way. Zebediah fucks his mouth the way he deserves. The way he was made for.

Tony shakes his head around the cock. And Zebediah doesn’t miss a beat fucking the pliant, slobber filled mouth, scraping Tony’s throat, cutting off his breath again and yet again. He rubs his chin in thought, in doubt. “Are you sure, mutt? You don’t look very sure. Hmm. I think you do need a reminder after all. Not for teeth, you’ve been very good about that.” He pulls out and strokes Tony’s cheek lovingly.

Tony begs, pleads. He can be good, he can be good for Zeb. Fuck strength, fuck fighting, he doesn’t need that. He can’t take the pain. The immobilization. He can’t.

“No, no, Zeb, please. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good, I’ll do whatever you want, I promise, I don’t need to be reminded. Zeb! Zeb, I’m yours, I belong to you. I don’t need to be reminded, I swear!”

Zebediah sighs, retreating from the room. He looks back at Tony sadly, like the torture he’s about to inflict is a burden, like he feels bad for Tony.

Maybe he does. After all, Tony brought this on himself. This is what Tony deserves.

“You know how I hate it when you lie to me, Tony.” Zebediah’s shoulders sag. “If you’d been honest about needing this, I would’ve prepped you first, but you haven’t earned that, baby. I’ll be back in a minute, love.”

Tony sobs and begs Zebediah not to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Fun times, right?
> 
> We're just getting started, by the way.
> 
> I have a general idea of how this is going to go, and I have some ideas that I'm excited (terrified) to include in the coming chapters. But I'm open to suggestions! If there's something you'd like to see in this fic, comment and I'll see what I can do. Chapter 3 coming soon.


	3. Anger and Fear (Zebediah & Steve's POVs)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking Steve out of the picture is even easier than Zebediah thought. Everything is going according to plan... aside from a small hiccup.
> 
> Meanwhile Tony's been missing for almost 48 hours. How is Steve handling it?

**Zebediah POV**

“Why do you have this on _your_ phone, though?” Zebediah nibbles along Tony neck, holding his cowering form from behind, they’re cuddled together on the bed. Zebediah’s hand is outstretched, clutching Tony’s cell phone. The engineer relinquished his password without much persuasion. Things are progressing quite nicely. “Imitating your own voice? That’s pretty vain, pet."

The process of reminding Tony is a fluctuating ordeal. Some areas appear easy to reshape into what they once were, others are more stubborn.

All of them will yield, though. It’s just a matter of time. Tony could never resist him, and he never will.

“For phone calls I don’t want to take.” Tony whimpers. His eyes are sealed shut. “Just, I hand it off to one of my assistants and…”

“Makes sense.” Zebediah muses. He’s flipping through the contacts now, mindlessly rotating his hips in minuscule circles, grinding his sluggishly hardening cock into Tony’s back. “So which Steve are we calling, Tony? Crent? Rogers? Petofski?”

Tony hesitates. Zeb just smiles.

“Crent.” Tony mumbles. He shrieks when Zebediah pinches his nipple hard between uncut nails and _pulls_. Of course Zeb already knows which Steve to call. Tony’s life, especially his dating life, isn’t exactly private. But Zeb is still gauging just how much reminding he has to do, how far Tony has come, how much he’s still resisting.

“Wanna try that again?” The words have scarcely departed his lips before Tony is sobbing out “Rogers! Rogers!” The name is pain, for both of them. Zebediah hates hearing Tony say it, it fills him with anger. Someone else pretending to own what’s his? It makes his stomach twist. He salivates, hungry for revenge. He pulls harder, digs his nails in deeper, and hopes it draws at least a little blood. It hurts Tony because he knows what’s coming. He knows what’s about to happen, and he’s powerless to stop it.

“Calling Mr. Rogers.” Zebediah sing-song-sneers. The other line picks up after the first ring, a desperate, unfamiliar voice sounding through.

“Tony?” The man breathes hopefully across the line. “Tony, is that you? Talk to me baby, Ive been so worried!”

So this hyperventilating mess of a voice is Steve. He sounds desperate. Whiny. Needy. He’s probably a bitch, just like Tony. A bitch can’t take care of another bitch. A bitch needs a master. It’s a wonder Tony survived this long.

Zebediah breathes deep and gets into character. It isn’t hard- he knows Tony, knows him so much better than anyone else. He taps the voice modification button on the screen, sets the input to ‘Anthony Stark’ or ‘Boss’ in the profile list. That’s amusing. Zebediah will take care of that little hiccup later.

“Steve.” Zebediah exhales in faux-sorrow.

“Tony!” Steve shouts. “Oh God, baby! Tony, do you know how worried I’ve been? You can’t just run off like that! Do you know what that did to me? What that did to Peter? Tony we were scared! Where are you?"

Tony sobs into Zebediah’s arm. Tears of shame, no doubt. Poor Steve, all worried about Tony, staying up for the past two nights, sitting by his phone, calling friends to calm him down, to talk him down from filing a missing person’s report. And what has Tony been up to these past two days? He’s been fucking his soulmate, that’s what. He’s been getting his ass fucked and his dick wet, crying out in pleasure endlessly while his so-called boyfriend worried at home. Poor Steve.

Who the hell is Peter?

“Steve, I’m sorry.” Zebediah trembles his voice perfectly. “I just- I know that this must be awful, but I need some time, okay? I just need a little time to myself, to figure things out. I’ll be back soon, but I need space. Give Peter my best.”

As soon as the call has ended, Tony bursts into tears all over again. He’s bawling like a baby; helpless, small, fragile. Good.

“Oh God.” Tony babbles. “Fuck, no. What have I done, what am I doing, oh God, Steve!” He sobs the name, long and high so that Zebediah has to shove his fingers in Tony’s mouth just to shut him up.

“Say goodbye to your toy, pup.” Zebediah scratches Tony’s back, the same way one might rub the skin for comfort or relaxation. But there’s pain instead. It feels amazing; hurting Tony just the way the engineer needs. He licks along tony’s neck, his face. Tony didn’t have a beard when they were last together, and Zebediah isn’t sure whether he wants to keep it or make Tony shave. Whatever. They have lots of time to figure it out.

The rest of their lives, now that Zeb is free.

“C’mon, pet. Let’s have some fun.” Zebediah growls as he licks up more of Tony’s tears.

=====

There is no greater pleasure than the gossamer slide and heated cling of Tony’s gorgeous ass. He loves to pump every inch into that tightness. The heat, Tony’s heat, seeps into his cock, into his bloodstream, that heat flows through his entire body, and he cannot help but moan. So good.

Every push away is Tony begging, pleading, challenging Zeb to pull closer and fuck into him harder. Lovely, his Tony, so demanding, always wanting more. He hates how Tony projects on to him, always thinks that Zeb wants more. Zeb doesn’t want anything. All he wants, and needs, is Tony.

He withdraws completely, just to hear Tony gasp, and grips his cock. He spreads some more lube over it. Tony has earned it. He rubs the spongy head against Tony’s winking hole, it tightens and loosens against the bare, empty air. He probably feels terribly empty. Poor Tony. He rubs the head up and down, teases the head in a couple times. He relishes how Tony whines, his entire body tensing more with each sensuous touch.

When Tony submits Zebediah can feel the endorphins flood his brain. He could squeal and giggle, he’s so giddy. Tony pushes back. On his knees, dog that he is, he keens, a bitch in heat. Zebediah’s bitch.

The bitch rocks back on the next touch, moans in bestial pleasure and mental anguish when he is finally filled again.

Because he can, Zebediah hesitates. Keeps Tony waiting, hurts him just a little with his denial. And when Tony cries out, cries out to be fucked, “Oh God, please fuck me!” Zebediah apologizes, says his sorries by thrusting all the way in and planting harsh, toothy kisses all along Tony’s back.

“So good, Tony. So good for me. My perfect bitch.” He slams in brutally, smacks Tony’s ass to mark him. He’ll take pictures of the handprints on his swollen, abused cheeks later. Maybe he’ll make Tony set it as his phone's screensaver.

He could use the reminder. Tony is still resisting, though it’s become more cute than troublesome of late. He remembers gentle touches. Zebediah replaces those memories with harsh slaps, seasoned with little pecks across marked skin. He remembers gentle praise. Zebediah does that too, tells Tony how loved and food he is, but takes every opportunity to degrade as well, to make Tony acknowledge that he’s a bitch, and little more, and that he belongs not to himself.

It’s become a game, such fun. Tony defies, even in his mind, that he belongs to Zebediah. Every little fire that Tony lights, Zebediah snuffs out. Such fun.

Zeb leans over, wraps his arms around Tony’s midsection, and begins thrusting harder, pistoning in and out viciously with the new leverage he’s achieved, flexing his hips in a repetitive motion, it’s a miracle he hasn’t come yet. He’s going to fill Tony up.

Tony needs to come first, though. He wants to feel Tony around him when he comes, and then he wants to stroke his flaccid cock and pound his sensitive hole until he cries. Well, until he cries more.

Then Tony, well, Tony just has to ruin it. Ruin their moment. It would be cute how defiant he is, how he almost makes a game out of disobeying, just like he did all those years ago. But Zebediah isn’t in the mood for games now. He wants to love Tony, he just wants to love Tony, and the love of his life just has to moan, mid-fuck:

“Steve!”

They tense up together. Anger and Fear. Tony knows he’s fucked up, but the name, that awful, traitorous name is ringing in Zebediah’s ears and it deafens him to Tony’s meager, ingenuine apologies.

He pulls out of Tony’s delicious heat, a painful burden. Tony complained earlier how he was sore, how he couldn’t take Zeb’s dick, his night-long reminder was too taxing, too harsh, too raw.

He would’ve taken it from Steve.

It is evident that Tony hasn’t been sufficiently reminded.

"I thought you were my good boy, Tony.” Zebediah says coldly. He’s cold. He hates it when he feels cold. When the ice closes around his heart. Only Tony can do this to him. His Tony, hurting him on purpose, all a part of their game.

Tony is turning over onto his back, pleading with purple eyes to take pity, to stay, to start again.

“I am! I am yours, Zeb! I didn’t mean it, it was a reflex, it was-“ Tony’s cheek is warm. It makes such a nice sound when he hits it. He needs to hear that sound again. Another slap, the opposite cheek this time.

Zebediah raises them both to their feet, pulling Tony off the bed and slamming him against the wall. He hears his love’s head crack against the wall. He hopes there’s at least a mild concussion. It’s the least that Tony deserves.

That wasn’t satisfying at all. The sound Zebediah needs is deeper, it hurts more, it…

He punches Tony hard in the stomach and it sends the light of his life to the floor; crumpled, groaning. Defeated.

He yanks Tony back up by the hair and Tony shrieks as he’s pulled too hard, some of his hair yanked out by the roots.

It’s only what he deserves, though.

That sound, the one of deprived breath, of a man broken, needing what he never thought he’d be denied… it is music.

“Looks like you need another reminder, mutt.” Zebediah punches the breath out of Tony again, before he can whine out more lying apologies. He punches again, for good measure. He punches again, because he can. The sound, the sound is so good. Tony gasping for breath, heaving, trying to fill his lungs. Later, Zebediah will abuse his throat, wreck it with his cock and with a choking hand. Tony only breathes when he wants him to.

“You’ve been lying to me, bitch. I don’t appreciate that.” Zebediah drags Tony from the bedroom, the gasping man too weak and pained to even struggle. He shoves him down the basement steps. “You said, you told me that you know who you belong to. Who you belong with. So why is there someone else’s name on your lips?”

Tony can’t answer. He has no breath to speak, and now he’s bruised even more. But Zebediah asked a question, and when Tony doesn’t answer, he gets punished. That’s just the way it goes.

Tears prickle Zebediah’s eyes. Why does it have to be like this? All he wanted was to have a nice reunion with Tony. To be enveloped in that heat, to claim him in release once more. To be reunited, truly. And Tony had to ruin it. Tony is doing this to him. To them. His love is so cruel sometimes.

“I hate that you’re making me do this, Tony.” Zebediah says sincerely, even as he straps Tony down, restrains him against a table. Even as he pulls out the fucking machine and straps a punishing toy to it; too thick, too long, too textured, and Tony is already sore. “I never want to hurt you, not like this, but you make me. I _hate_ that, Tony. Just let me love you, and I won’t have to do this.”

Tony never got a word out, gagged before he could breathe properly again. The machine makes a variety of beeping sounds, some low, some high, as it’s switched on, and then Zebediah is by his side, tears in his eyes to match Tony’s own. He’s stroking Tony’s face tenderly, and Tony probably doesn’t realize that he’s leaning into the touch with what little mobility he has.

“I forgive you, Tony. I do.” Zebediah whispers. Tony screams through cloth and tasteless plastic as he’s penetrated, the stretch and push made easier only by the remaining lube from his and Zeb’s earlier interrupted romp. “I’ll forgive you every time. I’ll remind you as many times as it takes. I promise you.”

Spit pools around the gag and flows out to meld with his tears. Zebediah clutches his hand and squeezes tightly, as though to comfort, telling Tony just how loved he while Tony is torn about by the rough twisting and thrusting and burning of the machine.

=================================================

**Steve POV**

Tony… needs space.

Steve’s first reaction is anger. Space? Tony needs space? Steve gave him space for two whole days. Two days, worried and wondering and crying and comforting their son while Tony was out doing God knows what. Fuck space. What about Steve? What about Steve’s needs? Steve needs Tony here, with him and with Peter.

He comes back to himself soon. He calms, runs his hands through his golden hair again and again, as if combing the anger out through his scalp, letting the draft from the window blow it from his grip and out of sight. Out of mind.

Maybe he’s been too overbearing these past couple weeks. He’s been on Tony’s case a lot, he knows. But it was only because he was worried! Zebediah Killgrave had been released, and Steve couldn’t just do _nothing_. So he had been checking in more, asking questions more, doting more.

Tony didn’t seem to mind at all. He laughed and leaned into the affection the way he always does. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe Steve was just imagining it, seeing what he wanted to see. Seeing Tony okay, looking over the damage that must have been there, because he wanted to believe that he could make everything better just by being there.

Tony must be in a rough spot to do _this_. He’s never needed time before. It twists Steve’s stomach into knots, the tight kind they taught him in his service, the kind that you can’t undo without a knife. A sharp knife. Tony sounded so sad over the phone. Steve hasn’t heard him like that since he got back from Afghanistan. It was awful.

And the last thing he said. “Give Peter my best.” As though Peter is just some acquaintance?

But that’s just proof Steve needs to back off a bit. It hurts, it feels like his lungs are being carved out and he’s drowning all at once. But he has to give Tony what he needs. He has to give Tony space.

He thinks that it’s been almost two hours before he finds it in him to stand up. Seconds later he sits back down, his legs can’t carry him anywhere right now. He breathes deep and tries again, willing the disappointment and the resentment away. Tony deserves better than that. He should encourage Tony for doing what he needs to, not admonish him.

He pushes open Peter’s bedroom door, decked out with spider decals and decorated with an American flag over the painting of the SI logo. He’s needlessly quiet, not wanting to wake the boy even though he suspected, correctly, that Peter was too wired to fall asleep.

“Pop?” His wide brown eyes seek out Steve, beg him to answer silent questions. Where? Where is he?

“Hey Queens.” Steve sits on the bed, and his manner of doing so, sagging and dragging his body along, burdened, tells Peter everything. He speaks anyway, drawing the teen closer to stroke his hair. “I just heard from Dad. He's gonna be away for a little longer, okay?”

He squeezes when Peter’s breath starts to shudder. “Dad loves you so much, Peter.” He promises, burying his nose in Peter’s brown curls. “We both do. Don’t worry, we’ll see him soon, good as new."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter, we'll hear all about Tony's reeducation on who he belongs to.
> 
> Any ideas for how Zebediah should remind Tony? Please share!
> 
> See you soon with the new chapter!


	4. Used to Be (Tony & Zebediah's POVs)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick thing. Zebediah Killgrave is a sick fuck who deserves no sympathy. But, in case there was any confusion, he really does love Tony. It’s a fucked up love, but it’s his love. In his warped mind, he’s doing what he thinks is best for Tony.
> 
> Tony falls into delirium as Zebediah conditions him. How will Zebediah react to finding out who Peter is?

**Tony POV**

Time is weird.

The passage of time, that is. Tony doesn’t think about it a lot. It’s not like he has deadlines to follow and he doesn’t worry much about when things are scheduled. If it’s important enough, someone will drag him from his workshop to it. Otherwise he just loses himself in whatever he’s doing. Tinkering in the lab, working on his cars, spending time with Peter, making love to Steve.

And speaking of Steve.

Now all Tony can think about is time. How long has he been here? How much longer will he be here? When is the last time he ate? Drank? Went to the bathroom? What day is it?

No windows, no clock on the wall, not that it would matter. He’s blindfolded half the time and constantly delirious anyway.

How long have I been hurting? How much longer am I going to hurt? He thinks, over and over when he has the mental energy to spare. Even thinking hurts sometimes.

It isn’t just his ass, though that’s sore as hell, stings, even. It’s his whole body. He’s strapped down constantly and his captor seems to drug him whenever he needs to relieve himself. He’ll wake back up, in pain but with an empty bladder and wet hair, like he’s showered. It even smells kind of nice. It’s a small mercy. Another thought. He wonders if he’s been restrained long enough that his muscles have begun to atrophy. Do his limbs look different than before? Jeez, Steve will be pissed that he hasn’t been following his workout regimen.

And speaking of Steve.

He never knows what’s coming next. He doesn’t know if he’ll suddenly have a cock in his mouth, a dick in his ass, a machine fucking him with a spiked toy.

One consistency is the cockring. It’s hell- absolute hell, worse than anything else. Edging and denial have never brought him pleasure. He feels the sweet, sweet stimulation, a hand stroking his cock, a wet warmth around it, licking skillfully, kindly, in all the ways that make him moan. And when he’s on the precipice of release, cruelty.

The the touch is taken away and his cock is once again exposed to the chill of this cold, empty room. And just when Tony thinks he might be able to will himself over the edge, a horrid, dragging, stinging pain envelops his dick and his balls. It’s tight and clings to his skin, tangles in his pubes and tugs like a fucking rubber band.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, and he has no way to tell. The only semblance of measuring the sequence of events is by the denial. Somehow, some recess of his brain is in control, stubborn and defiant, or maybe complacent and pitiful enough, to keep track. Count the lack of orgasms. He Every time the ring comes off, every time it’s put back on.

He’s been denied 32 times now, and between rounds 24 and 25, he got a glimpse of his pitiful cock, looking purple and aching, so much that he has the vaguest worry that it will fall off. A few rounds later, that’s what he’s hoping for. At least then he wouldn’t have to suffer through that anymore, the denial. His captor would have one less way to hurt him.

Steve always made him cum. Often multiple times, if he could manage it. Steve loved bringing Tony pleasure, so much so that he could cum just from sucking Tony’s cock, barely touching his own before he’s blowing his load all over their sheets.

And speaking of Steve.

Breathing has become something of a luxury during his time here. Though he wasn’t bound there originally, a strap was added to secure his neck, and it is far too tight. He has just a gasp’s worth more oxygen than he needs to keep from passing out. Every breath is a gasp, and his throat hurts for it. It gets loosened regularly, and Tony, stupid as he is, always feels grateful and relieved in the split seconds before he realizes why it was loosened. Then there’s a cock shoving it’s way down his throat and he has even less breath than before.

His eyes are dry. He has no tears left to cry, not really. Nor does his body have the water to spare. There’s barely saliva to help the intruding member slide down his gullet. A dry, sizable cock scraping the dry walls of the inside of his neck.

Will he ever be able to speak again?

By the time it’s over, he’s thankful for the strap, because at least with the tight, suffocating leather around his neck, he isn’t being torn apart from the inside out.

Occasionally, the cock will just sit in his throat, lazily, like it’s owner has nothing better to do. Like they’ve forgotten it’s even there. Tony’s passed out a couple times from that, completely deprived of oxygen.

The part of his brain geared toward survival keeps his jaw open, keeps him from biting or even clenching in the slightest. He tried it one time. It… didn’t end well. 

The abuse forced on his hole is measured. Unnervingly precise, almost like he’s a test subject or something. He’s fucked, wrecked, raped. His hole is stretched so wide he didn’t even know he could be opened up that much. He isn’t ever prepped, not beyond being already loose from the previous fuckings. He’s continuously stretched just short of tearing, feeling as though he’s about to be ripped in half. Then he’s stretched further, even further than he knew possible, and when he’s absolutely sure he’s been torn, it subsides, and his hole clenches around nothing, the muscle made sore by the too-sudden change.

It’s timed. Scheduled so that his ass has just enough time between sessions to heal. It isn’t a kindness, he realized after a while. It’s just further cruelty. If the abuse were constant, he might at least go numb, be dulled to the pain. No such luck. He’s allowed enough of a reprieve to make sure he feels everything. _Everything_. Every. Single. Time.

Steve always used to stop when he noticed Tony was getting uncomfortable. Hell, he used to stop as soon as he thought Tony was starting to get sore, even when Tony was in the mood for a little soreness.

Used to…

And speaking of Steve.

Steve used to care. Used to be loving and tender, used to treat Tony like he was precious and fragile, like he was the only thing that mattered. He used to worship Tony, drown him in praise and dirty talk that was sugar-sweet and made Tony’s brain fill with fireworks.

Used to…

But Tony must have done something. Must have pissed Steve off, somehow. Because now Steve is cruel, unrelenting. Now Steve hurts Tony in ways only he could know how to, taking the most intimate, private parts of Tony, mind and body alike, and tearing them to shreds. Then he gloats and tells Tony how much he loves making him suffer.

It seems just as likely that Tony didn’t do anything wrong. No, that’s not right. Just that Tony didn’t do anything to piss Steve off. He still went wrong, he went wrong when he let Steve into his life at all, because it was only ever going to go like this. Steve was only ever going to abuse him, use him, bring him pain. He must have just been waiting, waiting for Tony to let his guard down. Waiting for Tony to open up and give himself to Steve, just so he could treat Tony like the trash he is.

Steve is doing this to him. Steve is torturing him, detaining him and killing him slowly. Who else but Steve could know how to hurt Tony like this?

It’s Steve’s voice, always degrading him, mocking him.

It’s Steve’s hands on his body; choking him, hitting him, bruising him. Steve’s giant, warm hands, the ones that used to comfort.

It’s Steve’s cock. Inside him, tearing apart his ass and his throat, or smacking across his face humiliatingly. Steve’s thick, fleshy cock that used to bring so much pleasure.

Not anymore.

Steve hates Tony. To be fair, it isn’t like Tony deserves any better. Not really. There’s only one person that thinks otherwise. Only one person that loves Tony, one person that can take away the pain, if briefly.

Zebediah.

Every once in a while, Zebediah will save Tony. When Steve has gone off to god knows where, maybe to sleep or eat, Zebediah comes. He loosens the restraints, rips off the blindfold and looks at Tony. Looks at Tony with love and pain, like he can’t stand to see Tony like this.

“You’re okay, Tony.” He’ll say as he strokes Tony’s face tenderly. Tony can feel the affection, he feels Zebediah’s touch healing him. The one man that loves him will give him water, small sips, so as not to overwhelm him. He’ll feed him. Zebediah is the only one keeping him alive.

Steve, he’s pretty sure, would just let him die. Keep fucking him until his body was cold and unmoving, and then maybe keep on fucking him anyway.

It’s almost a cruelty that Zebediah keeps him breathing, eating, drinking. Because if he died, then at least the pain would go away. Almost a cruelty.

“Please, Zeb.” Tony cries out. The words scrape his raw throat and even hurt his teeth. His sobs are dry and light his body on fire. “Please help me.” He isn’t sure if he’s asking for release from this prison or simply death. Can’t tell which one would be worse.

Zebediah kisses Tony softly. So sweet. Steve never kisses him anymore, just rapes him and laughs about it.

“Soon, Tony.” He promises, lacing their fingers together. “Soon, I swear. I’ll get you out of here. You just need to hold on a little longer.”

And Tony believes him. Zebediah doesn’t lie to Tony. Why would he? He’s the only one that loves Tony, the only one who cares. Zebediah will get him out of here and make everything better. He just needs to hang on a little longer.

Zebdiah visits him every few denials, every handful of reapplications of the cockring. Makes the same promise every time, and Tony knows it’s true. He just needs to hold on a little bit longer.

He cries when Zebediah leaves, every time, even though Zeb tells him he’ll be back soon, he still cries.

Zebediah doesn’t lie. Not like Steve. Steve told him he was good. That he was worthy of good things. That he could be better, that he could make a difference.

Steve told Tony that he loved him.

No trust. Liar.

Zebediah has always been honest. Told Tony exactly what he is, what he wants, what he does, what he deserves.

Zebediah will rescue him from Steve. He just needs to hold on a little longer.

=================================================

**Zebediah POV**

Zebediah loves bruising Tony up. Loves hurting him the way he needs, loves reminding Tony that he’s Zebediah’s, and no one else’s.

He doesn’t like… this. This is painful. Tony is hurting so bad, he can tell. And it isn’t all about him, either, which hurts the most. This isn’t a lesson on belonging to Zeb. This is a lesson on how much he should hate Steve. That pretend-boyfriend that Tony must have accidentally grown too fond of.

Zebediah knows Tony must have been lonely while he was locked away. Zebediah didn’t cheat, remained faithful in their time apart, but he forgave Tony for not doing the same. Tony’s always been a horny, needy slut. Man has needs.

And Zebediah would forgive him for this, too, hard as it was. Falling in love with another man. It’s like Tony wanted to hurt Zedediah, deliberately. Like Tony reached into his chest and squeezed his heart, ripped out his lungs while he was at it.

It wasn’t just Tony screwing around. Tony had fallen in love.

So Zebediah went about fixing it. If he couldn’t make Tony want to be with him more than Steve, he would just have to make Tony hate Steve more than him.

Easily done.

The voice modulator on Tony’s phone came in handy. He could make himself sound like Steve while he educated Tony. He stuck his cock in Tony’s abused hole while he read through their text messages, learning all he could about this intrusion into their lives, and how to get rid of him.

He bought Steve’s cologne, the hideous stench. Tony would learn to hate it. He warmed his hands and put extra effort into his firm grip, emulating that touch that Tony said he loved.

He warmed his cock in his toy while learning all the best ways to make Tony suffer, all the ways that Steve would know to hurt him.

That’s how he learned about Peter, too.

He amped up the torment after that. Making it not just a lesson, but a punishment.

Tony never told him about Peter. Deliberately kept Peter from him, even. Unacceptable.

It was impressive, really, how Tony managed to keep his son’s existence a secret from the world at large. Maybe he was afraid of Peter getting kidnapped. That would be funny. More likely, Tony was being selfish, and keeping Peter all to himself. Keeping Peter from Zebediah. That bastard.

Zebediah hadn't thought about starting a family before, it never crossed his mind, but now that he sees Peter, Tony’s son- no. Zebediah _and_ Tony’s son, he feels a stir in his chest, in his heart. He has a son and he never even knew, and he loves the boy already. His sweet Peter.

He hadn’t been expecting Tony to have a son. But that wasn’t so surprising as the way his heart melted the moment he saw the boy. A picture on Tony’s phone, no doubt taken by that imposter Steve, of Tony, laughing beautifully with his son perched on his shoulders in a little cowboy outfit. A halloween picture from some years back.

Zebediah will have to make up for lost time. He’s already missed 13 years of Peter’s life.

Peter was a happy accident, apparently. From before Tony met Steve, a hookup with some nobody named Mary who wanted nothing to do with the kid.

Tony called Peter the best thing that had happened to him. Zebediah already feels himself agreeing with Tony. Peter is the best thing that could have ever happened to them.

He doesn’t love Peter as much as he loves Tony… at least not yet, but that might change. Zebediah wouldn’t be opposed to it. But he already feels the familiar need to protect, to love, and to own. The boy will be his. He’ll cherish Peter, make him submit so that he can love and protect him the way he deserves.

He can’t wait to meet his son.

Of course, before that happens, Tony has to be punished for keeping Peter a secret. Tony will have to work hard to make up for that. Keeping Zebediah’s own kid from him? Well, Zeb knows just how to punish Tony for that. He’ll have to take something precious away from Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurs to me that this qualifies as a Stockholm syndrome fic. Since Tony is developing (already developed?) emotions and stuff for his kidnapper. Yeah.
> 
> Thoughts? Suggestions? Sorry about the slightly inconsistent past/present tense, I'm working on it.
> 
> See you guys soon with chapter 5!


	5. Good Things (Zebediah, Tony, & Steve's POVs)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zebediah's work is done. It's time to take Tony home. And Tony... well, Tony has a choice to make.

**Zebediah POV**

Tony was nearly perfect. His perfect toy. He had taken his conditioning like a good pet, every moment submitting more to Zebediah and hating Steve with the passion and ire that he should.

And this would be the final test. A proving for how far Tony had come in these past two weeks. It was time to find out if Tony was truly devoted. Their time was up, Steve wouldn’t be held off any longer. It was time to bring Tony back into the light and see who he’d choose.

Steve or him.

He hated that there was doubt in the back of his mind, an itch that he couldn’t scratch, couldn’t ignore. He knew that Tony would choose him. Choose love. But still, there was that itch. What if Tony didn’t choose him? Tony he could deal with, any time, any place. But Steve, Steve was his own person, encumbered by a sense of duty and loyalty, military man that he was. The only way Zebediah could beat Steve is if Tony was on his side.

Driving in New York was awful. Maybe he could talk Tony into moving their little family somewhere else, because they hit every goddamn red light on the drive to Stark tower. He was cut off twice and it was cute how Tony winced and worried at him, scared he might be angered. His scared, silly little boy.

Even more exciting than expelling Steve from their lives once and for all was the thought of meeting Peter. He looks so sweet, sounds so smart, and so, so corruptible. He would be Zebediah’s. He would belong to him and him alone, he had already decided. Even if Steve manages to pollute Tony’s mind with lies again, manages to steal what is his, he’ll have Peter.

Kidnapping? No, not at all. Can’t kidnap your own son. And Tony would suffer the way he deserved; unable to see Peter, ever again, if Zebediah willed it. It would be a just punishment for denying his master.

If Tony makes the right decision, decides to stay with Zeb, keep his son, then things will change. Tony is a public figure, and as long as Tony behaves Zebediah won’t deprive him of Peter. But that lifestyle will have to dampen the… intensity of their activities together. If everything goes according to plan, Zebediah can’t hurt Tony the way he used to. Can’t have the kid noticing bruises or limps that can’t be explained.

The decision rests with Tony. Zebediah wins either way.

**Tony POV**

Tony is a smart man. Logical, coherent. Usually. Right now, he isn’t quite sure how to think, let alone what to think. He feels relieved. Relieved that he’s free from that room, that room where he… where Steve… Steve…

It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he’s free, he’s free and he’s being taken care of. Zebediah rescued him from whoever was keeping him there. It doesn’t matter who. Zebediah is taking him home. He pushes an ominous premonition to the back of his mind, one that tells him something is waiting at home. Something bad.

That can’t be right. Peter is at home. His technology, his workshop, his bed. That’s where he’s going. Back to the good parts of his life.

And he’s with Zebediah. That’s good too. He thinks.

Every time he looks into those purple eyes, his brain tells him to smile. But it’s not a wanting reaction, not a happy thing. He makes himself happy to do it. But what tells him is fear. Fear tells him to smile, because if he doesn’t, he can’t know what will happen next.

That train of thought, too, is pushed aside. It’s too silly to entertain. Why would he smile if he’s afraid? He’s happy. He’s happy with Zebediah, and they’re going home.

**Steve POV**

This morning, Steve got a text. From Tony. Finally, he’s coming home. After two weeks, his Tony is coming back to him. He feels relieved, and happy, and horny, too, more than he’d like to admit.

He’s missed Tony in his bed, missed his boyfriend impaled on his cock, or filling him up good. Missed talking to him dirty and showering him with sweet kindness, and cuddling afterward. Missed making him breakfast the next morning.

Peter would be overjoyed. Steve decided to let him sleep in but left a note on his nightstand to come downstairs if he wakes before Tony gets back. It’s the weekend and he had a rough night, crying as he put together the biology presentation that Tony had promised to help him with. Steve had done his best, looking up every other term online as he tried to muddle Peter through it, but the experience reduced them both to frustrated tears.

Peter got it done in the end, no thanks to his pops. Steve had been angry last night. It was one thing to need space, to leave out of the blue. It was another to break a promise to their son.

But all that is already in the past. Tony is coming home, and Steve knows just what to do to keep him here. Keep him here with Peter and Steve. He’s going to show Tony just how much he’s loved, how much he’s needed, how Steve has been slowly dying here without him.

He fingers the little box in his jacket pocket. A golden ring, simple and elegant, with a big, sparkling diamond at its crown. Only the best for Tony.

It’s going to be beautiful. Steve is going to get down on one knee. He’s going to tell Tony that he can’t live without him. He’s going to tell Tony he knows he’s Peter’s papa, but he wants to be his legal guardian, too. He’s going to tell Tony that he’s never been happier than when he’s with the man, and never sadder when they’re apart.

He’s going to ask Tony to marry him.

Then he’s going to carry Tony up to their bed and show him _exactly_ what he’s been missing these past two weeks.

Steve has been pacing the sidewalk for almost an hour now, wondering where Tony is, where he was that he isn’t back by now. What if he got in a car crash? Is it just traffic?

He’s confused when a gaudy purple mustang with tinted windows pulls to a screeching halt, almost swinging into him, wheels kissing the curb.

Even more confused when some man slides out of the driver’s side that looks vaguely familiar. A face he’s seen but doesn’t actually know, and it’s bothering him. Where has he seen this stranger? And, horrific driving aside, why does he already disdain him?

Tall with hair crudely dyed purple, his skin is pale but looks dark and thick. He’s wearing a very cheap suit, the kind Tony would never be caught within ten miles of. And yet, when the smirking man walks around without so much as a nod at Steve, and opens up the passenger side door.

Who should step out, but the love of his life, Anthony Stark.

Immediately he moves to embrace Tony, to shove this stranger aside and pull his brilliant inventor into his arms and never let go again.

But Tony shies away the second he steps toward him, and Steve can smell something. Not a tangible odor. More like a foreboding. He hasn’t seen his Tony in two weeks. This should feel like coming home. He’s willing it to, telling himself that this is what he’s been waiting for. But looking at the other man, the one he loves, the one that won’t meet his eyes… He has the strangest, most awful feeling that this isn’t his Tony at all.

He’s rudely shaken from his thoughts by a dry, smug voice. The stranger reaches a hand toward him in greeting. Though his smile is bright, his expression is anything but friendly.

“Hello there. Steve Rogers, right?”

Steve nods and takes the offered hand, squeezing more tightly than he strictly needs to. He feels the urge to demonstrate superiority.

“A pleasure to meet you. You might have heard about me?” The man says. “The name is Zebediah Killgrave.”

Steve feels his heart stop. The world goes cold and grey and if he were to put his hand to his chest, he would not feel a heartbeat. But his hands don’t touch his chest. No, the moment he regains control of his body, his hands, his whole body, lunges at Killgrave.

Steve glances at Tony to see he’s covered in bruises. Horrifically so. His skin is purple. All purple and yellow and green. But all Steve can see is red. So much red. He feels skin between his hands, hears rasping, and so he squeezes harder, and he won’t let go until that gasping stops, until those lungs never draw breath again.

**Tony POV**

This is what Tony was afraid of. Terrified of. This is what his gut was screaming at him from the moment Zebediah wheeled him out of that basement.

No. His gut has been screaming at him from the moment he set eyes on Zeb in the bar. How long ago was that? It must have been ages.

His head is a mess, again. He has no tears to cry, wanting only to howl in anguish. All he can do is watch. He watches his two loves, his two nightmares, tangle with each other.

More like one nightmare is brutally killing the other. Steve is every bit as ridiculously strong as he looks, and probably then some. Tony hears a voice cry for help. Probably his own. Are those his hands pushing at Steve? Like it’d make a difference. He might as well be a gnat compared to Steve’s iron grip.

Zebediah is scratching at Steve’s wrists desperately, smacking and clawing and drawing thin lines of blood. All the while, he’s smiling manically.

He’s turning purple. For a dark, regrettable moment, Tony thinks it suits him. His skin matches his eyes.

It takes three men to haul Steve off of Zebediah; Happy, Clint, some other security guard that Tony never bothered to learn the name of.

“Steve, stop!” He shouts. Tony is sure he looks as bewildered as his boyfriend, which only serves to further confuse the poor blond. He reaches out and Tony shies away once more. Steve looks so distressed. So angry, so… disappointed?

“Tony…” His anger returns, his face reddens again as his entire body tenses, the grips of the three men tighten in response. “He hurt you, Tony. Tony he hurt you! I’m gonna fucking kill him. Let me go! I’m gonna- get the fuck off of me!”

Zebediah hurt him? No, that’s not right. Zebediah saved him. Wasn’t it Steve who hurt him? That’s why Steve looks angry and violent, and why Zeb is the one holding him and comforting him. That’s right. Steve hurt him.

But that’s not right either. It’s all so confusing. Everything hurts, all his bruises that had slipped his mind, they ache. He feels the sting of healing cuts. The skin around his arc reactor… it burns. It burns worse than when he first woke up with it. It burns so bad.

And his ass is so fucking sore.

Absently, he hears some discussion between the other men. Something about Steve hurting Tony, or Zebediah hurting Tony, or the fucking boogeyman hurting Tony

The past two weeks come back to him. The memories hurt, too. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t think. There was only misery, and he couldn’t escape it. All the misery felt like Steve, reminded him of Steve. Steve wouldn’t have hurt him, though. Steve would never hurt him. The intellectual connection clicks, and all of a sudden Tony realizes Zebediah kept him prisoner for that interminable period of torture. Zebediah tied him down and raped him, fucked him over and over, pushing his body to the limit, letting him heal only so that he could hurt him again and again.

Steve couldn’t have been there. Steve loves him. Steve would have been here with Peter. Oh, Peter, he misses Peter. How long was he gone? Did he miss Peter’s science presentation? God he hopes not. He doesn’t want to deal with any of this shit. Fuck Zebediah. Fuck Steve. Where’s Peter? He wants to hold Peter in the safety of his home. Talk science with his little boy and make the world right again.

A voice comes through. Threatening, authoritarian.

“Tell them, Tony. Tell them what Steve’s been doing to you all this time.” Zebediah looks at him sharply, smiling as always. A vicious animal lurks behind that face. Doesn’t even hide, just paces back and forth, waiting to pounce.

Steve didn’t hurt him. He’s sure of it now. Steve’s been a soldier, he’s fought and he’s hurt, but never Tony. Steve’s hands were meant to heal, not to hurt.

And yet, there’s a bruise across Zebediah’s throat, scraping the man’s voice. So maybe…

No. Steve would never hurt him. He’s sure of it. He’s about to say as much when someone comes running out of the tower toward him.

Peter.

Tony should be overjoyed- Peter is here, Peter is safe. Peter is smiling and looks like an angel. All Tony can feel is dread. Because now he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Zebediah knows about Peter. He would’ve known before now, with all the time he’s spent with Tony’s cell phone, but if there was any doubt before, there’s not a scrap left for Tony to cling to.

Peter is here. Zebediah has seen him, is staring at the boy with what looks to be a genuine smile. Odd.

Then Zeb looks at Tony, and Tony, for all of his expansive vocabulary, doesn’t have a word to describe his expression. It’s a message, simple and pure.

I know.

Zebediah knows that Tony knows.

And Tony could tell the truth, tell it how it is. He could scream at the top of his lungs that he was kidnapped again, kept against his will, and tormented for days on end. Zebediah would be taken back to jail and would likely never leave.

But Tony can’t be sure of that. And looking back on their horrible time together, first in college, and now these torturous days in the windowless room… Zebediah isn’t all bad. He isn’t good. He’s cruel and he hurts. But he also loves. He cares. He can even be kind. It all depends on Tony, how Tony acts. When Tony is good, Zebediah is good. Things are nice when Tony is good for him.

Bad things only ever happen when Zebediah is mad. If Tony is good nothing bad will happen.

Bad things happen when he makes Zebediah mad. And now Zebediah knows about Peter.

Tony could tell the truth. But he doesn’t. He won’t. If only he were the only one at risk, he might have the strength. But Tony has always been weak. That’s why this keeps happening. Because he’s weak. He isn’t strong enough to keep himself and Peter safe from the monsters of the world. He needs at least one monster on his side.

Peter is sprinting towards them, looking the perfect image of innocence, of happiness.

Bad things happen when Zebediah is mad. When Tony is good, Zebediah is good.

“Gentlemen,” He draws a shaky breath and looks from Steve to Zebediah. From Zebediah to Steve. Zebediah with his wicked smile. Steve with his pleading eyes. “Please escort Captain Rogers from the premises. I’m afraid he’s not welcome anymore.”

The men hesitate, just for a moment before Tony snarls at them.

Steve is aghast, he looks every bit as betrayed as he should. Too shocked and horrified to do more than absently struggle against the men dragging him from his home. From Tony.

Peter is suddenly in his arms, pressing against every single bruise at once but Tony doesn’t feel any pain at all.

He feels every pain, but he shoves it down, down, and then even further down. Because the pain doesn’t matter. He’s with Peter again. That’s all that matters.

Peter is saying ten million things at once. “Dad! Where have you been? I missed you? You’re back! Where’s Pop going? Where were you? Who is that?”

Tony just squeezes him tighter against his chest, pressing kisses into his hair, as many as he can.

“Oh, I missed you Peter.” He cries. Zebediah is smiling. It’s a warm smile. A real smile.

Tony did good. Maybe… maybe things will be good from now on.

He sets Peter back on the ground, silly as it is. The boy is too big to be held anymore. “Hey champ. Let’s go inside and talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a whole lot happened there, and at the same time, not very much happened at all. I find that happens sometimes with my writing.
> 
> Comment below and let me know what I can do better!
> 
> Next chapter is the last chapter, and I plan to post it within the next few days. I have the feeling it will either be taken very well or very poorly. Stay tuned for the finale!


	6. Show Him (Tony, Zebediah, Peter, & Steve’s POVs)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out to be a long chapter. Like, a third of the fic long.  
> Honestly, I was just minding my own business, trying to get motivated to write an essay for my English class, and this just sort of happened. I'm sorry. I'm not actually sorry, but I do feel the need to apologize all the same. Enjoy!
> 
> Zebediah has moved in with Tony and Peter. Steve has moved out. Things are good. Up until the moment that Zebediah decides it's time to truly perfect his Tony, once and for all.

**Tony POV**

“Sir.”

Tony startles out of sleep. Funny. Jarvis’ monotone voice never makes him jump when he’s awake. Only when his eyes are closed.

“Pardon me, Sir, but it appears master Peter is once again in distress.” 

“Fuck a duck- Thanks, Jarvis.” Tony rubs his eyes open and checks the time. Almost midnight. Was Peter having another nightmare? Odds are he never went to sleep in the first place. The nightmares started after Steve left. As did the insomnia.

“Yes, Sir.”

He starts to climb out of bed when a lazy hand pulls his arm back. Zebediah yawns, and Tony is relaxed enough to roll his eyes. He isn’t going to forgo his son for a spontaneous midnight romp.

“Babe, I can’t-“

“I know, I know.” Zebediah cuts him off gently, rising to his knees so he can push Tony back into the sheets. “But you’ve had a hard day, you rest up. I’ll check on Petey.”

“But-“

“Rest, Tony.” He knee walks to the edge and hops off, not bothering to don a shirt before leaving, and that bothers Tony just a little. It shouldn’t, but… well, Steve always made sure to wear a shirt outside of their room if Peter was around. It probably wasn’t a conscious thing. Probably not a conscious thing for Zebediah, either.

It just bothers him a little.

“I’ll have Jarvis let you know if I’m not coming back to bed.” Zebediah calls out from the hall.

Sometimes Peter needs someone to hold him through the night. Usually it’s Tony… honestly, even after eight months, Tony doesn’t trust Zebediah with Peter. Not completely. It’s probably more that he doesn’t trust Zebediah, he’s always up to something, isn’t he? Though he’s been so kind and reasonable since he moved in, so sweet to Peter, doesn’t bruise Tony up anymore. Tony is sure that Zebediah stays his hand just so Peter won’t have anything to ask questions about, but-

Oh fuck it.

“Jarvis, bring up the video feed of Peter’s room.” Tony gestures toward the television.

“I believe you said we were to respect the young master’s privacy, Sir.” Jarvis says, and that’s definitely amusement in his robotic tone. That’s what Tony gets for giving him a personality.

“Are you going to tell on me?” Tony asks mockingly.

“Indeed not, Sir. As Ms. Potts is no longer permitted access to my systems, there is no authority to ’snitch’ on you, as it were.” Jarvis informs him.

“Snitch. Are you sassing me right now, J?” Tony snorts. God, he misses Pepper. But Zebediah feels uncomfortable when she’s around, so...

“The young master has taken the liberty of expanding my vocabulary.”

“Wonderful. Override, Jarvis. Show me the feed.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The TV comes alive with muted colors; Peter’s room, lit only by his bedside lamp and nightlight. He’d been weaned off the thing years ago, but he started using it again when Steve left. Peter changed a lot when Steve left. Still smart and spunky as ever, but in some areas he just… regressed.

Tony should really get him a therapist.

Case in point, Peter is currently crying into Zebediah’s chest, on hand tucked under his body, the other gripping the spiderweb sheets he’s so fond of. Zebediah is leaning back against the headboard, shushing Peter and carding a hand through his brown curls, cooing a plethora of ‘it’s alright’s and ’there there’s.

It’s heartbreaking. And heartwarming. Zebediah is so good with Peter. But Peter is so sad, so much of the time.

“Audio, too, J."

Zebediah continues the comforting movements until Peter’s sobs mellow out into little hiccups.

“Hey, champ.” He says, cupping Peter’s face with a slender hand. “What’s got you so down?”

Peter shrugs. Zebediah sighs.

“You can’t keep it all bottled up, Pete. You have to talk about it, tell me and your dad what’s wrong so we can make it better.”

Tony frowns at that. He doesn’t disagree, not really. The situation is… complicated. Sort of. Sort-of-very-complicated. They can’t tell Peter the truth. Tony can’t even think about the truth, because honesty has become the monster that he locks away in the tightly sealed box in the dark recesses of his ridiculously large closet.

But Peter should want to talk about it. They can’t make Peter talk about what he’s feeling. Maybe he thought too soon, because Peter takes a shaky breath and starts to open up.

“I miss him.” Peter murmurs. He burrows back into Zebediah’s chest. “I hate him. I hate him for hurting dad. But I miss him so much. I just don’t get it, Z!” He cries out.

That’s how he justified Steve’s removal from their lives. He put everything on Steve. Every bruise, every cut. Every horrible nightmare. They told Peter that Steve hurt him, and that Zebediah saved him. And honestly, these days, it gives Tony a headache to remember things any differently than that.

“I don’t know either, Champ.” Zebediah sighs, nuzzles into Peter’s hair. “But I’m here for you, okay? And I’ll keep your dad safe from now on, yeah?”

He pulls Peter’s head from hiding so that Peter can nod an affirmation.

“You and Tony, you’re mine now, and I won’t let anybody hurt either of you. I promise.” Zebediah smiles warmly. Peter smiles shakily. “You want me to stay? I could go get your dad-“

Peter whimpers and burrows back into Zebediah’s chest, clinging to his warmth like a mollusk on a rock.

“Okay, okay. I got you. HAL, tell Tony I’ll be with Peter tonight.”

Jarvis agrees on the video feed. A moment later, “Sir, master Killgr-"

“I got it, Jarvis.”

“Very good, Sir.”

He closes the video stream and falls back into his pillows. Looks like he didn’t have anything to worry about. He should really stop worrying. Zebediah is good with Peter, and Zebediah is good to Tony. Not that Tony has done anything to provoke the man. The only things Tony ever challenges him on are issues regarding Peter, and Zebediah doesn’t push it; trusting Tony to know what’s best for his son.

Zebediah’s behavior toward Peter has been what’s sustained all of this. He treated Pete like his own kid from day one, taking over all of Steve’s parental duties without hesitation. Never a complaint to be heard.

That only made it worse at the beginning. Because while Tony can’t stand up for himself, he can fight for Peter. Anyone who touches Peter answers to him, even Zebediah. And he still hates himself for wishing, a handful of scattered moments in those first few weeks or so, that Zebediah would do something. Raise a hand to Peter. Abuse him with words. Deny him something. Then Tony could muster the fire in him and finally, finally cast Zebediah from his life. Maybe even convince Steve to come back.

What kind of father wishes their partner would abuse their own son?

Zebediah has been nothing but good. To him, to Peter. He even uses Jarvis respectfully, and the AI seems to enjoy the pet names. Peter is teaching both of them about popular culture. Zebediah because he’s missed the past decade and a half, Jarvis because the AI doesn’t really do research unprompted.

Things are good. Yeah. He needs to stop worrying. Everything is a-okay.

=================================================

**Zebediah POV**

Peter is perfect. Just… so fucking perfect. So beautiful and smart, and he has a giggle that makes Zebediah melt. He loves the kid with everything he has. Might even love him as much as he loves Tony. He’ll figure that out later.

He misses bruising Tony up. Making him cry out in pleasure-laced pain. Marking him with teeth and hands and rope burn that remind him that Tony is his, and his alone.

But that isn’t true anymore. Tony doesn’t belong to him, not fully. And never will. Because of Peter. Any part of Tony that Zebediah doesn’t have, Peter does. Tony never argues, except when it comes to Peter. Puts Zebediah first, except when it comes to Peter.

When Zebediah tickled the idea of SI making weapons again, Tony emphasized that he and Peter are pacifists, and they’re going to make the world safer with their science, not more dangerous. Tony made him quit smoking altogether, weed and tobacco. He doesn’t want Peter picking up the habit or dealing with the smell.

Zeb has the creeping suspicion that if he were to ever harm the kid, Tony might turn on him completely.

Luckily, they never have to find out. He wouldn’t dream of hurting this perfect boy. No. He’s going to make Peter all his.

It works out well. He can make Peter his and claim the last pieces of Tony all in one fell swoop. Because Tony can’t say no to Peter. Can’t even dream of saying no to that perfect little angel. And the kid, their perfect Peter, is so needy, so desperate for love, for attention. For a hand to guide him through the darkness of losing someone he loved- a father that betrayed him.

So very susceptible to suggestion. The process didn’t take long at all. Peter is so eager to please, and he loves how Zebediah dotes on him, listens to him ramble on about school, science, video games, computer programming. Loves listening to new songs with him, even doing chores with him.

It isn’t even that Peter can’t say no to Zebediah. It’s that he never wants to.

So very, very perfect.

And that is how he’s finally going to break Tony. Completely and forever. With enough willpower, Tony might be able to deny Zebediah. Might even be able to deny Peter. But if they both ask for something… it doesn’t matter what. Tony will submit.

Now that he’s made Peter his, Tony has nothing left to keep from him. He just needs Tony to see it. To understand. And he knows exactly how to do it. He’ll pull Tony off a cliff that he can’t be rescued from. They’ll fall together, all three of them, and Zebediah can’t wait to hit the ground with his perfect boys.

Peter really is gorgeous… just gorgeous.

==============

Zebediah brings it up subtly. That’s key. He has to ease Tony into this, draw him to the edge. Tony needs to at least entertain the idea in his mind before he can put his plan into action.

He talks about how Peter is looking good. How he won’t have any trouble finding a girlfriend, or a boyfriend.

He mentions how nice Peter is growing up.

He mentions that one or both of them should have the talk with Peter soon, in case he starts doing teenager stuff.

He positions himself and Tony to see Peter at opportune moments. Peter working out in his room. Peter fresh out of the shower. Peter crawling out of bed with just his underoos on. Zebediah loves that nickname. It sounds so innocent on Tony’s tongue. He can’t wait to corrupt it.

He knows the moment he’s succeeded. When Tony quickly looks away with a blush. When he excuses himself from the room. Zeb even thinks he took a cold shower one time after, though Tony would claim it was only because Peter used up all the hot water.

Stark Tower never runs out of hot water. Ever.

He’s ready. Tony is ready. All that’s left is a catalyst. Something organic that makes Peter needier than usual, gives him comfort. So desperate for love that he’ll beg for it any way he can get it.

He’ll beg Tony for whatever Zebediah wants him to. And how would Tony ever be able to deny their sweet little angel?

==============

The opportunity presents itself soon enough. A nightmare. How fitting.

It’s as if the stars aligned. He and Tony were about to tumble in the sheets when Jarvis interrupted them, informing them that Peter was crying for both of them, having just woken from a nightmare.

Peter needed them, and they would give Peter exactly what he needed.

===============

They go together to comfort Peter. Zebediah takes the same position as usual, against the headboard, holding Peter to his chest. Tony is in front of them, holding Peter’s hands, stroking them with soothing thumb motions. Peter was gasping when he woke, a full on panic attack. Now he’s just whimpering and leaning into their touches.

So fucking perfect. It’s time.

“How do you feel, Petey?” Zebediah whispers in his ear. It’s not so much a question as an order. Tony doesn’t react. Good.

“Still pretty awful.” Peter whines, squirms a little, trying to lean back into Zeb’s warmth.

“I’m sorry baby boy.” Zebediah kisses his temple. Peter inhales sharply. Perfect. “How about me and your dad make you feel good, huh?”

Tony looks at him sharply, utterly bewildered. So innocent. The best part is that he knows Tony is ashamed of what his mind has conjured, forbidden thoughts mustered by an off-handed innuendo. Tony doesn’t think that’s what Zebediah means. But that’s _exactly_ what he means.

“You want us to make you feel good?” He asks without asking. Another order. Peter nods. Peter never says no to him. Never wants to. Why wouldn’t he want to feel good.

“Zeb, what are you-“

Zebediah doesn’t answer. Not verbally. He just slides his hand down, down, down. He isn’t hesitant. It doesn’t cross his mind that Peter might say no, might stop him. He’s claiming what is his. That’s all.

“We’re gonna make you feel so good, okay Petey?” Not a question, but Peter nods all the same. He gasps and arches beautifully the moment Zebediah’s hand cups his cock. It takes him a few caresses to get hard and all the while, Tony stares in shock.

Peter knows what sex is. That’s a simple fact. But his regression and his vulnerability are no doubt clouding his perception. Not that it really matters. This would happen one way or the other. Zebediah will stay true to his word. He’s going make Peter feel good. So good. He’s going to ruin Peter. But Peter is as essential as he is inconsequential. This is about breaking _Tony_. Ruining Tony in the worst way and the best way.

Peter moans, whimpers, and Tony starts out of his shock. “What the _FUCK_ , Zeb?” He roars.

Zebediah grins. Because Peter whimpers out of fear now, not pleasure. Tony scared Peter, and Tony knows it. His son pulled his hands away, is cowering into Zebediah’s chest.

“S’okay, baby boy, it’s okay.” Zebediah soothes. His grin is not a friendly one. His hand stops stroking and slips into Peter’s pajama bottoms, distracting the boy back into cloudy pleasure. “We’re gonna make you feel so good.” He turns to Tony. “Right, Daddy?”

“What? No, Zeb, stop, fucking-“ He’s cut off by another of Peter’s moans. Zebediah is stroking his length now, impressive for an almost-fifteen year old.

“Stop making him feel good?” Zebediah tilts his head and frowns. “Petey, do you want us to stop? Want us to go?”

“No!” Peter clings back and thrusts up into Zebediah’s grip. “Stay, stay, stay. Please. _Please_.” He pleads over and over, more and more as Zebediah strokes him.

“Okay, baby boy.” Zebediah coos. “We aren’t going anywhere. We’re gonna keep on making you feel good.” He turns to Tony. His Tony is crying now. Beautiful. “Your Dad is going to make you feel like you’ve never felt before.”

“…no.” Tony whimpers, horrified. He knows what Zeb wants him to do. Such a smart boy. Smart pet. Maybe not so smart though. He thinks he has a choice. So silly.

“Oh.” Zeb sighs loudly. “I guess… I guess your Dad doesn’t want us to do this, Pete.” He pulls his hands away and eases Peter off his chest, ignores the boy’s whimpering, his scratching and clinging.

“No! No, Dad, please.” Peter is sobbing now. Tony is crying, Peter is crying. It sounds like… heaven.

“Well, Tony?” Zebediah pushes Peter toward his father, pushes him away again when he tries to retreat back into Zeb’s body. “Aren’t you going to make our baby boy feel better?”

"I-I- Zeb!” He wails. Zebediah knee walks over to Tony, presses against Tony’s back. Peter is played out before them, shirtless, confused, and so very hard. He’s making musical noises of grief and wanting.

“Go on, Tony. Make him feel so good.” Zeb licks Tony’s neck.

“Zeb!” Tony bawls. Tears and tears rolling down his cheeks. So beautiful. His Tony was so responsive, so emotional, just how he was meant to be. Zebediah was in complete control. He made Tony cry. With a handful of words, he could just as easily halt those tears and see to it that Tony never cried again.

But he has to be sure.

“Why are you doing this, Zeb?” Tony wails. His voice is broken. The voice matches the man. “Why are you making me do this?”

“I’m not making you do anything, love.” Zeb says softly. He rubs Tony’s back, up and down, smooth and steady. Joy floods through him that Tony doesn’t flinch away.

“Dad?” Peter whimpers. “Dad, what’s happening? I- I’m scared, daddy.”

“Shhh.” Zebediah shushes him. “Hey, sport, there’s nothing to be scared of. I promise you. Nothing to be scared of.”

_You’re scaring him_. Zebediah says with his eyes. _You are scaring him, and I’m making him feel better. Help me make him feel better_.

“Me and your dad love you very much.” Zebediah leans over to cup Peter’s cheek, and the teen leans into it. Yes. So responsive, so sensitive, so needy. Just like his Tony. How did these two ever manage without him? They need Zebediah here to love them and care for them. They’d be nothing without him.

“Peter.” Zebediah breathes. Honesty. He isn’t speaking a single lie tonight. These are the people he loves the most. He needs them. He needs to control them, so that he can keep them healthy, safe, and cared for. This is for love. “Peter, you’re beautiful. You’re our beautiful boy.” Some of the fear in the boy’s eyes subsides at that, and the trust, the relaxation at the tone of his voice, becomes apparent. Good. “We want to feel good with you, Peter. Because we love you so much, yeah?”

Peter hesitantly nodded his understanding, his eyes flicking from Zebediah’s comforting, startling purple gaze and his father’s trembling form.

“Your dad is just a little nervous, that’s all.” Zebediah coos. He kisses Peter’s forehead and grins at the boy’s appreciative noise. “He wants to show you just how much he loves you, and he’s a little frazzled. That’s silly though, right Petey? Cuz you want your daddy’s love, yeah?”

Peter nods without hesitation. He turns to Tony. “I- I love you, daddy.” The next words are mumbled, crestfallen. “I want you to love me.”

Tony gasps at that, almost shaken from his crying, and Peter startles, recoils, thinking he did something wrong. Good. This is all… it’s going so much better than Zeb thought it would. These boys, they’re perfect. They were made to obey him. They were made for him to love them.

“Oh, Peter, there there.” He tugs Peter into his arms and lets the boy burrow into his warmth.

“Daddy.” Peter whines. “D-don’t you l-love me? Dad?”

“Shit, shit! Of course I do, Peter.” Tony crawls over and cups Peter’s cheek. “Oh, don’t ever doubt that, baby. Sweetheart, I love you more than anything. More than life itself.” His eyes flick to Zebediah’s, and he doesn’t need to speak the words. _More than you_. His eyes say sadly, resignedly.

_That’s fine_ , Zebediah thinks back. _That’s just fine. That’s why this is happening._

“Then show him, Tony.” Zebediah pushes Peter into his dad’s arms, and Tony is shaking again. He tucks his son’s head under his chin, smells the top of his head.

"I love you, I love you.” He whispers over and over again, squeezing Peter too tightly. It’s cute.

“Words, words, words, Tony.” Zebediah lets disappointment drip in his voice. He puts his arms back around Peter. “You have to _show_ him.”

Tony keeps on telling Peter how loved he is, like a mantra, like he can’t stop.

Zeb smiles, then masks it with sorrow. Grief. He smooths it into his tone. “I’m sorry, Petey Pie.” He tugs Peter from Tony. The engineer’s eyes go wide. He can’t let go, but Zebediah is leaving no room for argument. Still, Tony is squeezing the boy hard enough to leave light bruises. Beautiful. He releases Peter, shying away like the boy is plague once he hears a whimper of pain.

“Oh, baby boy, my sweet boy, I’m so sorry.” Peter is sobbing into Zebediah’s chest. Subtly, invisibly, Zeb lets a tear fall to his hand, brings it to his face and licks it up. It’s delicious and now he’s parched, dehydrated, so so thirsty for more. “I thought that- I’m sorry, Peter, I thought that your dad loved you enough to show you. Oh, sweet thing, you’re okay, you’ll be okay. I’m sorry.”

Tony’s face flushes suddenly. He’s angry. Enraged. “Why!” He roars, startling Peter further into Zebediah’s breast. “Why are you doing this to us, Zeb? You sick, twisted fuck! Leave my son alone!”

Zebediah ignores him, utterly ignores him. Coos at Peter, comforts him. “Your dad loves you, little one, I know it. I’m sorry it’s not enough to show you, but I promise he loves you, alright? I promise.”

Peter just sobs and sobs. He looks at Tony, tearstained cheeks flushed red with shame, the poor boy doesn’t even know what’s happening, not really. He feels the emotion of the room, the charge, the tenseness. His daddy is upset, and won’t show him love, that’s all he knows. He peeks look after look at Tony. There’s such betrayal in his eyes, it’s gorgeous. The boy is too preoccupied, too upset to notice how hard he’s making Zebediah.

“No!” Tony shrieks. “I love you Peter. Please, I love you so much. You’re the best thing for me. The best part of my life. I could never love anything as much as I love you.”

It’s astounding. Peter effortlessly holds this power over Tony, and Zebediah’s conditioned control looks like child’s play by comparison. He is dwarfed by Tony’s love for his son, and all Peter has to do to maintain it is exist. So fascinating, and frankly, marvelous. Once Peter is under his control, there will be nothing left between him and Tony. He will be Tony’s everything, and Peter’s everything. Their love will be complete. Zebediah will finally be complete. He can taste it.

Peter doesn’t respond, he glares Tony daggers. He notes the distance between them, running with his eyes, again and again, the expanse of the bed between him and his father. If his dad loves him, why isn’t his dad comforting him?

It’s then that Zebediah knows he’s won. If there was any doubt before… well, there isn’t now. Tony isn’t all the way there, but he’s toeing the line. There’s no going back, and he just needs one. more. little. push.

Zebediah keeps on stroking Peter’s back with one hand as he pulls the bottle of lube from his sweatpants pocket. He holds it out to Tony, sternly. This is an order.

“Then _show_ him, Tony.” He tilts Peter’s chin up to look into his violet eyes. Perfect, gorgeous boy. “He’ll forgive you, Tony. Right, Pete? You’ll forgive your daddy if he shows you now? No more hesitation?”

Peter nods vigorously. He’s raw, confused, upset. He just wants his dad to love him. He’ll do anything for his dad.

“You have to show him now, Tony.” Zebediah growls. “Or else… well, you might not get another chance. If you don’t love him enough-“

Tony lunges forward. His eyes, in the split second Zebediah sees them, are wild, angry, and sad. And filled with so much devotion. Zebediah can’t tell if that reverence is for him or Peter.

Then he realizes. There’s no difference anymore.

Tony yanks Peter from Zebediah’s arms and into his own. He tilts back his son’s head and presses their lips together, too gentle for how so vicious an act. He’s calm now, tears streaming from his cheeks, as he kisses his son for the first time. It will be far, so far, from the last.

Peter is breathing hard into the kiss. He’s still confused, so confused, but he’s pressing himself against his dad desperately, as if trying to fuse himself to his father. Zebediah hates that Peter is wearing pajamas, that there’s any division between him and his father anymore. He doesn’t have to wait long. Tony sobs as he tugs his son’s night shirt up and off of his creamy skin.

He dives back in for another kiss before he can stop himself, he swallows every single one of Peter’s shocked, happy, gasping moans. Zeb wonders what they taste like. Do they taste as good as Peter’s tears?

=================================================

**Peter POV**

His Dad is crying. He feels the wetness against his own cheeks, mixing with his own. A few trail into his mouth and he tastes salt. His Dad is so big, so warm, so much. His mouth is being devoured by his father and it’s addling his brain so good. All he can think about is how warm he is. How safe he is. How loved he is.

His dad’s tongue is strong and wet in his mouth, and tastes like mint.

There’s warmth against his back now. Z is here, too, warming him, loving him. A wet hand slips in the back of his pants, fingers slide between his cheeks. He feels too good to worry about it. He hisses as his hole is breached. That’s new. He didn’t- didn’t-

His dad has stopped kissing him. Good thing, too, because the finger wiggling inside him feels so good so suddenly that his mouth clamps down and he moans deep in his throat. He’s pretty sure he swung his head back so hard he hit Z’s nose.

Then his dad is kissing him again, harder than before. Hungrier. So much more wanting.

Another finger slips inside, and it burns a little. Wet, slippery, burning. The burn is kind of good, though. Yeah, it’s really good, actually. He feels so close to them both. He’s never felt like this before.

They take their time, the three of them. Take things slow and fast. His dad kisses him like the world is ending, barely letting him up for breath. Doesn’t matter. Peter doesn’t need to breath. He just needs his dads touching him, more, more, more, and in as many ways as possible. Z’s mouth is on his neck now, licking and nipping. It makes him gasp. Z fingers him open slowly. Pumps his fingers in and out steadily, building a rhythm. It intensifies, faster, harder, deeper, calming when a new finger is slowly eased in. Each finger feels better than the last.

He didn’t know he could feel this good.

His cock is left cold and untouched when his pants are rudely yanked off, he whimpers at the loss, tries to buck against his dad’s hardness again. He opens his eyes, and his dad is naked now. His dad is… hot. Objectively attractive, yes, but also just… there, and looking at Peter like there’s nothing else in the world.

He wants him. He wants him. They want each other.

His dad’s cock… it’s… well, he doesn’t really have firsthand knowledge, but he has a general idea of what an average sized dick looks like. His dad is… not average.

Looking at it makes him feel warm. Makes him want. He cries out when Z removes his fingers. Actually cries, wounded by a resurgence of tears. He needs the touch, he needs it, and he needs so much more. Z hold him again, against his chest so he’s still facing his dad. His dad looks so worried, he wants him closer so they can touch and hug and make each other feel good again.

His dad takes a container of something, lube, and spreads it over his hand. Then his cock. Strokes it several times, to warm it. He presses in close and looks over Peter’s shoulder. Z nods behind him, and his dad scoots closer and closer. Z lifts up Peter’s legs a bit, spreading them so his dad can better settle between them.

When the head of his dad’s cock presses against his rim, there’s a moment. A moment of panic, or worry. A feeling that all of this is wrong, that something is here that shouldn’t be, and that something that should be here is missing. A feeling of abject danger.

Then the head slips into his loosened hole, and the moment passes, passes into a new sensation that is somehow impossibly better than Z’s fingers. Then the feeling continues, deepens as his dad’s cock slides further inside. It’s so fucking hot, it burns, and he feels so. fucking. FULL.

He didn’t know he could feel full like this. He didn’t know that it could feel this good. Didn’t know that anything could feel this good. How- how does anyone get anything done? The thought is there, floating somewhere, unfocused. How do people not do this every second of every day? He feels so good.

His dad starts to pull out and the thought makes Peter cry in preemptive agony over the emptiness that will ensue. But just before he’s left open and empty, his dad thrusts back in, and he’s hot and aching hard and so wonderfully full.

Even when he opens his eyes again, all he can see are stars.

=================================================

**Zebediah POV**

“Does it feel good, Petey Pie?” Zebediah asks, nails scratching up Tony’s spine. “Do you like it? Do you love how your daddy fucks you?”

“Y-yeah!” Peter shouts, loud and gasp-filled over his father’s whimper-sobs, quiet but sure and he fills his son again and again with his cock. “It’s. So. Good.” Each word is preambled by a moan, punctuated with a gasp.

“Tell your son, Tony. Tell him why you’re doing this. Tell him exactly why you’re filling his hungry little hole with the cock that made him.” Tony looks tearfully over his shoulder, hips never faltering. Zeb grins and nods, and he knows that Tony will tell the truth. Such a good father.

“I love you, Pete.” Tony cries.

Such a good boy. So obedient.

Peter sits himself up a little, shudders at the unexpected new angle that it causes his dad to fuck into him. His words are as sure as they are shaky. “L-love you too, d-dad. It’s- it’s good! Dad! Daddy!”

Tony leans down of his own volition, presses his forehead against Peter’s as he pounds his boy’s ass.

They look so beautiful together. His boys. Broken and bound, to him and to each other. There’s no going back from this. Never. And this is only the start. This is their new and true beginning.

Tony thrusts balls deep into his son and moans out his orgasm, filling his son with cum.

Beautiful. Perfect. Owned.

=================================================

**Steve POV**

It’s been almost a year since Steve has seen Tony. Since he’s seen Peter.

A year away from his son. It hurts. It physically hurts to be apart from them.

He managed to get visitation with Peter. Twice. It was a process, but he did it. But the whole time he was with Peter, he was watched, and the whole time, Peter was cold, reserved. Hating. Peter asked him why he hurt Tony. He pleaded with Peter to believe him, that he didn’t, that he would never. Peter called him a liar.

The next month, their day together went exactly the same. And after that, Peter simply refused to come.

Pepper and Rhodey are helping him from the financial and legal angle, but there’s not a whole lot that can be done if Tony won’t communicate with them, or even let them in the tower. He didn’t actually fire Pepper, but their relationship has regressed to something purely, horribly professional and bland.

They can’t even prove that Killgrave is with Tony at all. Tony and Peter rarely leave the tower, and Killgrave never does, as far as Steve can tell. And after several weeks of lurking, he was served a restraining order that basically keeps him from ever setting foot in Manhattan.

Steve won’t give up, though. He’ll keep looking and keep fighting for as long as it takes. Until he gets the love of his life back from that monster. Until he gets his son back.

When he’s roused from another evening’s cruel lack of sleep by his phone’s ringtone, his eyes nearly pop out of his skull when he sees it’s Tony’s contact. Tony blocked him almost right after Killgrave got back. He hasn’t been able to talk to Tony at all. Maybe something happened, maybe he got a moment to himself, maybe he’s reaching out for help.

This is Steve’s chance, and it might be the only one he gets. It’s a video call, and Steve hits the green button without hesitation.

But when the picture settles, it isn’t Tony’s gorgeous face on the screen. It’s Killgrave. Fucking Killgrave.

Steve is about to shout a range of obscenities into the microphone, but Killgrave amusedly puts a finger to his lips and slowly angles the camera. There’s a sound coming from the other side of the line. It’s wet and breathy and all too familiar. It’s as uncomfortable as it is baffling. What could possibly-

Steve’s organs twist. His mouth goes dry. He’s on fire.

Killgrave is in Peter’s room. And so are Peter and Tony. The latter two are on Peter’s bed. Steve blinks, then blinks again. He has to be seeing things wrong, because it looks like…

Tony is fucking their son. Tony is pounding the hell out of their son’s ass moaning out his pleasure while he does it. Peter is thrusting back into his Dad’s movements like he’s enjoying it.

Then it’s Killgrave’s face again. Smiling and smug. He gives a fraudulent shrug, as if to say ‘what can you do?’ before ending the call.

Steve doesn’t sleep that night. His number was blocked again right after the call. All night, the only thing he can see is red. The only thing he can think of is Peter, because… Because fuck Tony. Tony can go straight to hell. No amount of abuse, no amount of manipulation can make up for this. For touching their son like that.

Peter is the only thing that matters now. The only person that matters. Steve has to get Peter out of that Tower. He doesn’t know how, can’t even begin to think how he’ll do it, but what other choice does he have? That’s his kid. His sweet, scarred little boy, abused by the very man that gave him life.

The next time Steve sees them, all of them, Killgrave isn’t the only one in for it. Steve feels his hands itching, fingers hot and aching for a neck to wring. Tony’s neck. The next time he sees Tony Stark, it will be the last time.

Consequences be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, I officially add the 'Dead Dove: Do Not Eat' tag, and declare this fic COMPLETED!
> 
> Thanks for reading ya'll!
> 
> What should I write next?


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